


Hell is Empty

by bloodykinghaywood



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, mad king au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodykinghaywood/pseuds/bloodykinghaywood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[T for swearing and violence, mostly!] King Ryan was mad. That much was known. But nobody knew just how deep the madness went.</p>
<p>The king cleared his throat, and all the men looked to him. The look on his face was unreadable, one of both satisfaction and remorse. "Onto the next order of business," King Ryan declared, "We must plan your executions, we have a rat among us." The king's hard blue eyes. "Unless evidence showing who the rat is comes to light in the next 3 days, all of you and Lindsay will be facing the end of your days."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so i was lookin at mallius art and listening to seven devils and this happened. oops. i have a lot more lore than i can write so feel free to send me any asks??? vocaloid3luka.tumblr.com

The air hung thick, infused with tension, around the men at the table. The ceilings were high, the walls decorated with beautiful paintings and tapestries, and various bones of several species, not quite limited to animals. At the back of the room, there was a fireplace, flames dancing and making the skulls seem eerily alive. The table was a simple circle shape, made of obsidian and redstone. Around it were about 5 chairs, each the same dark wood with no spectacular additions. And then, with its back to the fireplace, the Seat of the King was a bit larger, a bit more ornate than the other chairs. It was made of a dark wood, almost black in some areas. There were silver and diamond decorations making it seem more fit for a king...but not this king. King Ryan Haywood the First was often called the one true Mad King, and in other kingdoms he was called the Harbinger, the Enderman in human skin...although that wasn't obvious from just looking at him. He wore robes similar to those all great kings of the past had worn, a black silk cape draped over his shoulders, pinned there with a brooch of silver with rubies set in, a black tunic with detailed red embroidery and simple black pants. His shoes, too, were black. His crown, however, was much different, made of silver with the same rubies and diamonds shaped like teardrops. It came to points that seemed razor sharp as it circled around his head, ruby making it seem as if glistening blood was dripping from said points. It was centered perfectly atop sandy blond hair, swept neatly to the side. The diamonds in his crown were the same of his eyes, although the latter had a glisten to it that didn’t seem all too human, and not natural at all, his lips quirked up in an expression that conveyed all too well the fact that those stories spoken in hushed voices are all but false, though the King had an air of elegance about him, and that was matched in the way he spoke.

  
His council, however, knew more to the King than what the stories convey. They knew just how deep the madness ran, how twisted his ideas were. And it scared them to death, even enraged a few. The council knew all, made up of 5 men born of both high and low blood. Some were lords in the past, one an esteemed warrior, and the other...Nobody knew quite where Gavin Free came from. His armor made from Creeper skin and his nose and his way of speech, none of them were of the Achievement City. He had a...gift for fire, as the King quickly learned and exploited. His dusty brown hair was messy, although it looked brushed, and he was easily the most vocal of the group, often saying things to confuse the others, much to fuel the one in the bear fur’s anger. To be fair, though, pissing him off was an easy feat. That one was Michael Jones, or as the villagers called him, Mogar. His fighting skills were unmatched by anyone in the realm, it was said. He had brown, curly locks and his diamond sword never left his side. To his left sat Ray Narvaez the Second, another knight with straight black hair and a rapier sword fashioned after a rose on his belt. He wore a more formal attire than most all of them, a rose ruby pinned to his tunic. Next to Ray sat Lord Geoff Ramsey, the Allfather. Geoff created this world, these men, all of everything. He was the only true immortal, and it showed in his weary, tired eyes that told stories nobody would dare. He dressed in green plate, though he never fought these days. To him, destroying life he created was just so...awful. He felt a lot of mixed feelings about the state of the world. The next, and last council member was Jack Patillo, and while he wasn’t a noble of any sort, he was known for building a couple villages from the ground up, such a talented architect that the previous king enlisted his services. When he had learned that Jack was very wise as well, the king decided to keep him around, as did King Ryan. He had a well-kept beard, the same reddish color of his hair.

  
The king cleared his throat, and all the men looked to him. The look on his face was unreadable, one of both satisfaction and remorse. "Onto the next order of business," King Ryan declared, "We must plan your executions, we have a rat among us." The king's hard blue eyes. "Unless evidence showing who the rat is comes to light in the next 3 days, all of you and Lindsay will be facing the end of your days."

  
"Lindsay?!" Michael said, shocked. "Lindsay didn't do shit!" His fists slammed onto the table, earning a dark chuckle from Ryan.

  
"We don't know that, do we?" Ryan said, an interested gleam in his eye.

  
"My liege, with all due respect, are you sure?" Jack spoke up.

“I am absolutely certain,” came the King’s reply. “That is all. Dismissed.”

-~-

Michael stood, Ray and Gavin flanking him. They walked in silence down the hall, disappearing into their rooms one by one. Michael said his goodnights to the two as they left, and as he got to his own room, he shut the door and looked around, the reality of things crushing him. He changed into sleepwear and laid down, intending to rest although he knew it was impossible. Closing his eyes, he counted sheep. Sheep with the faces of Lindsay, Ray, and the others pranced in his mind, jumping into the guillotine one by one. In his heart of hearts though, Michael was acutely aware the King would be much more…creative, and he visibly shivered.  
Okay, that's not happening... Michael thought sourly. He stood up, grabbing his sword and sharpening it. He mulled over everything, thinking the king couldn't be serious, but he knew more than anyone that Ryan only did things when he was absolutely certain about them. All of a sudden, he heard a sharp knocking on his door and nearly jumped out of his skin despite his usually fearless temperance. Clutching his sword, he slowly opened the door. Recognizing Lindsay, his lady wife and the one closest to Ryan, he relaxed, putting his sword down and pulling her to him, into a hug, which Lindsay gladly returned.

“You scared the shit out of me…” Michael said, quietly in her ear.

“I know, I know…” Lindsay said, pulling away after several minutes, looking up and down the halls before shutting and locking Michael’s door. Turning back to him, she said to him in a shaky voice, “What do you know about King Edgar?”

At that name, Michael froze. That name sunk deep into his bones. Of course, the man had lived ages before himself, but the former King of Terror meddled with all sorts of forbidden arts, the things he did considered inhumane and madder than even their current king. He had gone down in history as the king to make the most sacrifices, offering up even his loved ones to extend his reign as long as possible, ending about a century after he should have died. They say he never even left, soul wandering the halls of the old castle they had to abandon after Edgar had died. Others say he still ruled the land of the Nether and others say he became one of the more powerful Enders. Nobody knew.

“He’s...he was….” Michael said, not able to say more in fear that Lindsay was thinking the same thing he was.

“Before he became ruler you say he was quite sane and actually a really pleasant and polite man, yes?” Lindsay asked, carefully.

“Yes.” Michael spoke without hesitation, voice unwavering.

“And then didn’t he spend more and more time in either the library or his chambers? After that, wasn’t he practically a new man?”

“...Come to think of it, yes…” Michael thought aloud. The stricken look of fear that flashed over Lindsay’s face struck Michael as odd. Lindsay had more control than anybody he knew. “Lindsay,” Michael begun, laughing. “You can’t be thinking that. That’s impossible. There’s no fucking way Edgar possessed Ryan. That’s impossible.” Michael shook his head, wanting to not believe it. Oh, he thought, How would Ryan feel if he knew what had happened to his kingdom if this was true….

Lindsay pulled out a few sheets of paper from her bag, handing them to Michael. The pages were old and yellowed, and he had to take great care to handle them. He recognized the King’s neat handwriting, but he had to squint to read the actual writing. It seems these were pages torn from some tome in which Ryan had scrawled some notes. The tome detailed King Edgar’s reign and how he died. According to this, his soul never vanished, infecting some kings every few years with a little bit of madness. Ryan, if his notes were to be believed, had been trying to find a way to abolish Edgar’s soul and trace forever. He wrote notes on how he may accomplished this.

One of which being to accept Edgar totally and completely in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael read and reread the notes over and over again. He hated to admit it, but it was...theoretically sound. But it was still so, so risky, and who knew if the real Ryan would still be in there? “Why the fuck did he think that this is something to do alone…? I think it would be a smart fucking idea to alert your friends that ‘oh, by the way, I’m going to let a fucking demon inside my brain this wake, see you later!’” Michael’s voice grew louder, and Lindsay placed her hands on his shoulders to shush him.

“Look, he’s a dumbass, that much is...plain to see. He’s a dumbass and he fucked up. Bad. But we need to do...something, right?” Lindsay said. “Perhaps it might be a good idea to share this with the others.”   
  
“Fuck, the others…” Michael’s train of thoughts drifted to the earlier meeting. “Shit, Linds. Shit,” he muttered. “We can’t leave right now, though. The King would be suspicious, wouldn’t he?”  
  
Lindsay nodded in reply. “Yes. It’s much too late tonight. You have sparring session with Ray tomorrow, right? Pull him aside and tell him then. For now, though, we should just lay down. Sleep is unlikely, but…”  
  
Michael nodded, pressing a kiss to Lindsay’s nose, nudging her towards the bed. “Rest well, if you do rest.”  
  
“You too. Love you, Michael.” Lindsay replied, laying down. Michael climbed in beside her.  
  
“Yeah. You too.” Michael replied, pulling the sheets over them, waiting for day to break.

-~-

Michael’s eyes opened to the door being knocked rather harshly. So I did manage to sleep...good, he thought to himself, opening the door to one of his servants.   
  
“Sir, Ser Narvaez the Second is awaiting you in the arena,” the servant, Blaine, said. Michael nodded.

“I’ll be going soon,” Michael said, rubbing his eye. “Tell him I apologize for waking up late. Had a rough night.” Michael shut the door, changing into his armor and grabbing his sword, a long, two handed claymore. Holding it up to a ray of light coming through the window, he marveled at how lovely it was. The hilt inlaid with a bluish diamond and carved with his battle name, Mogar, fit perfectly in his hands. The blade was as sharp as he could keep it, totally clean of blood. He had washed it the other day. Michael never let anyone else touch it, it being the only link to his old life. As he put it in his back sheath, he glanced towards Lindsay’s bed. It was empty, so Michael shrugged it off and walked out to meet his friend.  
  
The walk there seemed to hardly take very long at all, and when he reached the arena, he noticed Gavin was there too. Good, it would take less time and energy to see them both at once.

“Look who decided to show up.” Ray grinned tiredly at his friend.

“What the heck took you so long?” Gav asked, running over to Michael. “Were you still sleeping?” The man asked with a laugh.

“Well, you know. Things happen. Sleep is one of them.” Michael greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you here, though. What a fuckin’ surprise.” Michael said dryly. Gavin tagged along on Ray and his escapades frequently. He wasn’t mad, though, and Gavin only grinned wider.

“He can’t seem to leave us alone. Goodbye, any man-dates we may have,” Ray chuckled. “You ready?” He had his hand on his rapier’s hilt, and Gavin was backing away to snipe at them from afar.

“You’re going down, bitch,” Michael said, grinning and pulling out his claymore. Holding it before him, he stood in a fighting position. “Come at me with all you’ve got. I can take it.”

Ray laughed, “I don’t ever hold back. Be careful, though, I bruise like a peach.”

“I’ll be gentle, baby. I know this is your first time in a while,” Michael said, laughter shaking through him. It was true, they hadn’t sparred for several months, they didn’t need to. Everyone knew they were the two best fighters in the kingdom.

Suddenly, Ray was running at him, and Michael rose his sword to parry. Ray was quicker than him by quite a lot, however Michael was stronger, and could block easier. Michael let his instincts take over, the battle clearing the air. Ray was a good opponent, even for the mighty Mogar. The sound of metal against metal rang through the air, paired with the occasional, soft thwp of a bow when Gavin fired. The dull practice arrows collided with the other men’s armor, distracting them every now and then. Michael shouted curses at Ray and Gavin often, though they knew Michael well enough to know that he always does that. Ray just grinned again when Michael started cursing, rushing at him again. Their dance continues for a long while, ending only when a servant comes in and interrupts the three. Michael, Ray, and Gavin looked to him, breathing harder than they realized.

“What is it?” Michael asked, slightly frustrated. Ray tugged his sleeve in a reminder to be nice.

“It’s dinnertime, and King Haywood has instructed me to alert you. Are you coming?” Kerry, the servant, asked.

“Yes, of course. Give the King our apologies, would you?” Gavin asked, gathering up his quiver and bow.

“Just give us some time to change into our normal clothes, we wouldn’t want to eat in our armor,” Michael said, and Kerry nodded. Michael watched him leave, and when Kerry disappeared from sight, outside the arena, he yanked Ray and Gavin closer.

Ray looked at him quizzically. “What the hell?” he asked quietly, right up by Michael’s face.

“Keep an eye on the King. Linds made a worrying discovery lately. If you get a chance, tell Geoff and Ramsey to get their asses to the arena after we eat. You guys, too, should come. You definetly need to know this shit,” Michael said, staring down the two as best he can.

“What?” Gavin probed, eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Michael glanced around the arena again, making sure there weren’t any guards or anyone, and he barred the door shut. He pulled the other men to the back of the arena.

“Linds thinks Ryan was possessed by Edgar. Look at these,” Michael said, handing the others his notes. “Ryan was doing some experiments to get rid of Edgar, letting Edgar possess him so that he could get rid of Edgar...somehow. I don’t quite understand the notes past there, I mean, what the fuck’s he talking about?”

Ray’s face was pale. “...Shit. Michael, he was either going to go through some mystical procedure in which he explored his mind to ‘kill’ the remnants of Edgar inside him, or...y’know, kill himself if he couldn’t. I...I think Edgar took the reins before he could do either...So, he’s still in there if we’re lucky and Edgar hasn’t banished him from his own mind.”

“But how the hell is that possible?!” Michael said, raising his voice before Ray clamped a hand over his mouth.

“Look, dumbass. You can’t be so loud right now. The Mudimens is a plane of existence inside of everyone, it’s essentially a world inside of your mind, and usually it’s only occupied by yourself. Talented sorcerers and mentalists can access this world, and in it it you can slay others who occupy your Mudimens. Ryan would have wanted to kill Edgar’s soul in his Mudimens, ridding the world of his existence. In theory, it’s a good plan, but Edgar’s soul is old, and powerful. Edgar may have killed Ryan’s soul in his Mudimens, or weakened him some other way. Ryan couldn’t put up a fight for so long, you know?” Ray’s voice was shaking, his hands were, too, and Michael tried hard to not let his anger boil over.

“But...how can we get Ryan back…?” Gavin asked tentatively.

“I…” Ray began, trailing off. “We need to get ourselves together and to dinner. Get Jack and Geoff to meet us here after dinner.” Ray shoved the notes back in Michael’s hand. “Keep those with you after you get dressed, but don’t bring Lindsay. See you guys soon.” Ray suddenly turned, walking to the doors. Michael and Gavin followed, going to their chambers to quickly change.

Before leaving, Michael checked his reflection in the mirror. He made sure there were no obvious signs of worry or fear, and there weren’t. His curly, auburn hair was neat and he stared back at himself as defiantly as ever. He grinned, walking briskly to the Hall. The walk was quiet, and he was relieved that the meals had not yet been served when he walked in.

“Michael!” The King smiled, a false charm about him as he waved him over. “Take a seat. I’m glad to see you’re okay, you were taking a while,” The King’s expression was pointed, suspicious.

“I am. I thank you for your concern, my liege. My deepest apologies,” Michael said, holding back on the sarcasm as he sat. “What’s for eatin’?”

“Chicken, today,” Jack spoke up, “Hey, Michael,” he greeted, and Michael waved back.

“Glad it’s not fuckin’ cow again. I guess even the King grows tired of his favorites,” Michael smiled to the King, and he laughed.

“Yes, I admit it. Chicken is a nice second, though. Nice and healthy, too,” the King said in reply as the chefs walked out with the meal, and they all immediately dug in. The food was a good filler for when the conversation tapered off, and as Gavin told another tale that detailed just how dumb he was, Michael couldn’t help but glance at Geoff, who was being uncharacteristically quiet. Geoff was simply staring at Michael, and Michael couldn’t read Geoff’s expression. It was surprisingly tired and upset, and while the man’s eyes were usually droopy, he seemed especially drained. Swallowing his bite, Michael looked away awkwardly. Ray, who was on Michael’s side, elbowed them, yanking him out of his trance.

“Michael,” Ray said, “Are you okay?”

“What? Of course,” Michael said, blinking. “Why?”

“You’re not so boisterous today,” the King said, amused. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Nah,” Michael shrugged. “Just had a looong day, y’know?” And it looks like it’s going to be another long night, too...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im really sorry this took so long but between school starting and me starting to RP as well, chapters wont be as often? but i will do them quicker than that huge pause whoops  
> but without further ado, heres the thing!

The meal was uneventful, save for an update on the state of the kingdom and a reminder that everyone's lives are on the line. Michael couldn't help but notice Geoff's eyes flicking around from face to face, a nervous tell of his. The meal was good, a refreshing one. It put the edge back on Michael's mind.

Soon enough, the meal was over and the King had rushed everyone out so the servants could do their job. Michael looked at Ray and saw him speaking to Jack and Geoff.

"So, will you come help us perfect our technique?" Ray asked, though the look in his eyes suggested something more urgent.

"I can't, I-" Geoff started, not noticing the look in Ray's eyes. Jack, however, did, tapping his shoulder.

"C'mon. They need our help," he said, pulling Geoff towards the arena, lads falling behind.

"We can't keep meeting there." Gavin said to the two beside him. "Ryan will find out, won't he?"

"Yeah. But for tonight we should be fine." Ray replied, rushing forward to open the doors and call off the guards. He was quick to close them when everybody was in, however.

"So...recap. I still don't know what the fuck you were talking about earlier." Michael said.

Ray ignored him, simply rolling his eyes and turning to the gents. "We think we know what's going on with the King," Ray said solemnly, sticking his hands out towards Michael, who gave a confused look in return.

"The notes, dumbass." Ray said, cracking a grin.

"Oh," Michael said dumbly, reaching into his boot to grab them. "Here."

Ray's nose crinkled, but he took the notes all the same. "Lindsay found these somewhere in Ryan's room. Basically, Ryan isn't Ryan and we're pretty fucked."

"And what can we do to fix that?" Jack asked, worry lacing his words.

"You used to study a lot about minds and shit, right Geoff?" Gavin asked. Having been cared for the last few years by the man, he knew more about him than the others.

"Yeah. But that was a long while ago."

"Do you recognize the term Mudimens?" Ray asked, staring at him.

"Yeah. That's that weird, world type thing, right?" Geoff asked, stroking his moustache.

Ray nodded. "And we all know who Edgar is, right?"

All their faces suddenly darkened.

"You mean was, right, Ray?" Jack asked.

Ray shook his head. "No, is. Present tense is key, my friend. Anyways, we think that Edgar has taken residence in Ryan's Mudimens."

Geoff's face went totally blank just then. "But....Edgar died a century ago. That's not possible."

Ray let out a dark chuckle. "No, Edgar’s soul is still very much intact. Ever wonder why every now and then a king would make a decision that's just a bit too insane? That's Edgar at work."

"You make it sound like some sort of fuckin' disease." Michael said.

"So what we need to do is get into Ryan's Mudithing and kill Edgar." Gavin said.

"Save Ryan, save everyone." Geoff said.

"Well...provided that there's anything left to save." Jack said, quietly, with a small nod from Ray.

There was a quiet moment, and that was the first moment Michael, as well as some of the others realized they may never see their friend again, not even really able to mourn him or say their goodbyes.

"Ryan's not gone. I know he isn't. Edgar may be powerful, but Ryan is too, isn't he? So he can't be gone. We can still save him." Gavin said, breaking the suffocating silence. "We get in his Mudimens, take care of Edgar, and that's that."

Geoff nodded. "If we let ourselves lose hope, it'll be that much easier for Edgar to pick us off like flies."

Michael listened to them, but he still had a concern. "Hey, Ray."

"What?" Ray asked, looking at his friend.

"Is it possible that Edgar can switch hosts?" He asked. "Like, if Edgar finds out could he take over my body and pretend to be me or something?"

Ray was silent for a moment, thinking. "That's not a bad question."

"I think so. It would be best to assume that, at least." Geoff said, Ray in agreement.

“Is there any way that we can strengthen our mental defenses so that Edgar can’t make a little home in us?” Jack asked, shifting a bit, clearly nervous about everything.

Geoff’s eyes lifted to the ceiling, obviously thinking. “There should be a way, but I don’t quite remember…” He said, shrugging.

“For now, though, just be careful. We don’t know what all Edgar can do, or how easy it would be for him to take over one of us.” Michael warned, his voice was stern.

“We know, Michael.” Gavin said, offering a bit of a grin. “We’re not as bloody stupid as Ryan, are we?”

Ray sighed. “Just because he caused this, that doesn’t make him an idiot. It seems that he had everybody’s best interests in mind. He wanted to eradicate an evil, Gav.”

“Doesn’t mean you take the minging devil into your mind, Ray.” Gavin laughed, it was clear that he was pretty much just making fun now, regardless of the fact that he did have a point.

Michael cracked a smile at the two, worry easing as the chatter went on. “So, are we gonna actually spar tonight, or can I go hit the hay?” He spoke after a few moments, interrupting his friends.

“I’d like to, but I’m tired as dicks.” Geoff said, yawning. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow, though, good luck. Don’t get mad cow disease or anything.” He said, chuckling, and dragged Gavin along as he left.

“I’ve got a garden to tend to before bed, sorry, Michael. The mighty Mogar can always fight at another time, right?” Ray asked, holding his hand up.

Michael slapped it, grin spreading. “‘Course he can. I would bet that you need your rest too, right, Jack?” Michael asked, turning to look at the bearded man.

Jack nodded sheepishly. “Yeah. Though, thanks for keeping me in the loop.” Jack said with a grin. “You should go sleep too, Michael. You look like you need it.” He spoke softly.

Michael nodded at that, a more genuine smile coming to his face. “Yeah. Sleep well, Jack.”

Jack nodded, waving before leaving Michael alone. Michael looked around at the empty training room, staying for a few minutes and just contemplating things. Or trying to, but he felt that he should go ahead and leave. Suddenly, there was an eerie air.

And so, he walked towards the large, oak doors, opening them and stepping through.

“Ah, Michael, I was wondering when you would be finished.” A voice spoke from behind Michael, and he turned on his heel to see a smile on Ryan’s face. It sent chills down his spine. “What was taking you so long? What were you and the others talking about that kept you guys up so late?” He asked, stepping closer.

Michael just stared, expression blank for a few milliseconds before he recovered, shrugging casually. “Nothing, we were just training so that we could protect you better, your majesty.” Michael said, falling into a bow so that Ryan couldn’t see his face.

“You don’t seem so tired, Michael.” Ryan spoke calmly. “Stand straight, such a position is not becoming of a warrior of your stature.” He ordered, and so Michael stood straight, face steady. “If you were working so hard, perhaps we can spar so that I may test your abilities?”

Michael nodded, pushing the panic away and following his King into the training arena.


End file.
